


HEART.STOP

by otter_pop



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 11:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12581376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otter_pop/pseuds/otter_pop
Summary: “Tell me again, Taozi,” Jongdae paused as he traced nonsensical shapes in the crook of Zitao’s neck, “about how you could break me.”





	HEART.STOP

**Author's Note:**

> [xxx](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLyfvvmR0rE)

Jongdae took Zitao apart with finesse, like he had done it a thousand-and-one times with him, yet the two had just recently met, only barely knew each other’s names between heated kisses and bites to the lip when Zitao had shoved Jongdae into the wall of the hall at the bar they both just so happened to stop at on the way home.

Granted, Zitao wasn’t all that hard to take apart in the first place. He all but presented every part of himself to Jongdae with pliance, an easiness that came with the first drink he ordered, could partially be blamed on the relaxed environment of the bar that made Zitao smile at Jongdae from across the room in the first place. Zitao didn’t blame his openness on any one factor, but grinned and agreed when Jongdae attributed it to his own charming nature.

Zitao, open mouthed and panting, watched in amusement as Jongdae pulled away to fumble with the cheap motel room key in his pocket, laughed unapologetically loud when Jongdae dropped it and cursed under his breath. Jongdae eventually managed to shove the key into the lock, no thanks to Zitao, who teased Jongdae for every miss. It grated on Jongdae’s nerves, made him want to shove Zitao into the door again and shut him up with another kiss, whatever it took, but Jongdae knew better, waited until he had the door open and Zitao was stumbling inside.

“Are you always this loud when you’re drunk?” Jongdae said. Zitao snorted, sitting down on the edge of Jongdae’s unkempt, wrinkled-sheet bed.

“You think I’m drunk? After one drink? That’s cute.” Zitao leaned back on his elbows. “Were you gonna fuck me if I was drunk?”

“I knew you weren’t,” Jongdae supplied, kicking the door shut behind him and taking a moment to glance at the time on his phone. “But no, I wouldn’t have.”

“Such a gentleman.” Zitao cast his eyes down Jongdae’s form. “You’re so small.”

Jongdae bit his tongue and the retort back to Zitao he had at the ready, instead using the moment to take in all of Zitao, every single part of his body that he wasn’t allowed to bask in; in the bar’s shitty low lighting and obnoxiously loud music and raucous laughter that didn’t let Jongdae even enjoy the quiet rumble of Zitao’s laughter when Jongdae said something just cleverly enough to earn a giggle.

The light of his hotel room didn’t do much more for Zitao than the dim lighting of the bar, Jongdae thought, but god, was it so much better to see Zitao stretched out on the edge of his bed, the tears in his jeans revealing the fishnet hugging his legs underneath and making Jongdae absolutely shiver with anticipation. Zitao’s hair was a raven black shade, strewn across his forehead and covering his eyes just slightly, sweeping them away from his eyes and grinning at Jongdae. Jongdae’s mouth went dry at the sight, from the idea of Zitao offering himself up all for Jongdae to take.

But Zitao wasn’t all easy and willingness, his eyes still tracing over Jongdae’s thin frame, like he was sizing him up and deciding whether he should eat him up and spit him out or not. A part of Jongdae liked it— feeling like he was prey for once. It was really cute.  _ Zitao  _ was really cute.

It took Jongdae a moment to notice Zitao beckoning him forward with the crook of his finger, a royal prince calling his servant and waiting for Jongdae ever so patiently. Despite being across the room, Jongdae was willing, crossed the space between them and basked in the smug smile that tugged at the corners of Zitao’s lips. Words were hardly a necessity, Zitao pointing down, and Jongdae easily going to his knees, between Zitao’s legs, settling against the questionably clean carpet floor of his motel room.

“Pretty,” was all Zitao managed to utter, his voice low, welcoming from the back of his chest as Jongdae sat himself a little closer to Zitao, rested his hands on the curves of Zitao’s thighs and squeezed appreciatively. Zitao’s breath hitched, but only slightly, barely noticeable if Jongdae hadn’t been paying attention, trying to gauge that kind of reaction from him in the first place. He scraped his nails along the roughness of Zitao’s jeans, stopping at the gouge of fabric at the top of his thighs. 

At his fishnets, Jongdae dug his nails into Zitao’s flesh, enjoying the way Zitao gasped. That’s right, Jongdae thought softly, almost triumphantly. That’s  _ right,  _ that’s the reaction Zitao was supposed to have, because Jongdae had control, even if Zitao thought he did by calling him there, looking down at him like he owned some part of him.

There was a pause, where Jongdae leaned forward, his fingers at the top of Zitao’s jeans, catching on the belt loops and asking through touch if he could pull them off. Zitao’s fingers met with Jongdae’s chin, caressing the softness of his jawline and nodding a beat later. Before Jongdae could get a grip on Zitao’s jeans, feeling the pattern of fishnet under his knuckles as he curled his fingers under the band of Zitao’s jeans, Zitao stopped Jongdae.

“What—” Jongdae started impatient, ended with surprise when he felt himself being pulled off the floor and onto the bed, onto Zitao, and then Zitao was kissing him, mostly teeth and a quiet laugh tucked behind them, but still kissing him.

“I could break you,” Zitao said as he released the hold on Jongdae’s shirt. Jongdae almost laughed in Zitao’s face. “Physically. You are so small.”

“You mentioned,” Jongdae grumbled, “but you wouldn’t hurt me, would you?” Jongdae used his own strength on Zitao, hand moving up the base of his neck and settling his fingers against Zitao’s throat. Shoving him down, Jongdae had Zitao pinned to the bed within a second, Zitao’s eyes blown wide as he let out a gasp of surprise, his breath stuck in his throat. Jongdae tightened his grip just for a moment.

“No,” Zitao managed to utter. Jongdae smiled, so tender, opposite of his fingers digging into Zitao’s throat.

“You want me to hurt you, right?” Jongdae pressed.

Zitao shook his head, felt Jongdae pin him with the force of his hand once more and nearly cut off his air. After another moment, Jongdae loosened his grip. Zitao’s eyes were glassy, staring up at Jongdae with reverence, mouth parted as if still trying to get one last swallow of breath in before Jongdae did it again.

“I want to see all of you,” Jongdae said. It was so vague, but Zitao swallowed thickly in a meager attempt to dispel the ball in the pit of his throat. 

“You’re dangerous,” mumbled Zitao. 

Jongdae nodded. “I told you I was, but you kept talking to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Zitao began weakly, his hands clenching around the sheets underneath him. He steeled his nerves before speaking again, “you don’t scare me.”

“I wasn’t trying to  _ scare  _ you.” Jongdae lifted his hand from Zitao’s throat, tracing along the sharpness of his jawline and savoring how Zitao almost stopped breathing. “You like it.”

Zitao huffed, impatient now that Jongdae had turned the tables on him and was now drawing every second out. “God, are you just going to keep talking?” he snapped. Jongdae didn’t laugh, didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, his eyes seemed to gloss over with a darkness, unwavering. A shiver ran down Zitao’s spine, chills through his veins as he froze and watched Jongdae part his lips, swooping forward and resting his lips against the shell of Zitao’s ear.

“My Taozi,” he said, voice barely audible over the  _ thud, thud, thud  _ of Zitao’s pulse. His voice— Zitao gasped when Jongdae ducked down and bit down on the curve of his neck, only enough to scare, only enough to earn a noise of surprise— “Sweet Taozi, you told me you wanted it to hurt, don’t you remember?”

God, his  _ voice, _ Zitao thought, suddenly panicked when he felt Jongdae’s hands tugging at the bottom of his shirt, a wave of deja-vu drowning him all at once, then none at all, as Jongdae whispered against his skin again.

“You promised I could have you if I found you.”

Every part of Zitao’s body went cold with realization, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Despite his trembling fingers, Zitao set his hands on Jongdae’s shoulders and pulled him away.

And then Zitao realized where he had somehow seen this stranger before, how it wasn’t just a pick up line to use on someone pretty at a sleazy bar— that Zitao had  _ really  _ seen this man sometime in his life, had heard the sweet undertones of his voice whispering his name in a mantra between bites and begs for more, and— and Zitao  _ wasn’t  _ crazy, he  _ did  _ know this stranger at the bar. 

“You.” Zitao pushed Jongdae’s bangs away from his eyes. They were as piercing and dark as they always were. Always clouded over. Never a speck of light in them— only when Jongdae needed something from him.

“Finding you was worth it,” Jongdae said as he let Zitao study him, his hands holding the sides of his face, running down his neck,  _ really  _ touching him and holding him. Jongdae had never let him do that before. Jongdae never even let Zitao know his  _ name  _ before.

“You— of all fucking  _ places  _ to be—” Zitao began, sounding more frustrated than he did angry. He didn’t even have the words.

“Tell me again, Taozi,” Jongdae paused as he traced nonsensical shapes in the crook of Zitao’s neck, “about how you could break me.”

Except now that Zitao knew who Jongdae was,  _ really  _ knew who he was, he was pinned under the weight of his gaze, under the fact that Jongdae had seen parts of him that Zitao didn’t think he’d show to his closest lover; Jongdae had seen parts of him  _ Zitao  _ didn’t even know existed.

The silence provided answer enough to Jongdae, who seemed more and more impatient as Zitao didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to break you apart,” Jongdae tiptoed his fingertips along a vein in Zitao’s throat, “piece by piece. And you’re going to beg me for it, like you always do.”

“Fuck,” Zitao breathed out, harsh and heavy. Jongdae smiled.

The way Jongdae handled Zitao was so intoxicating, Zitao’s head was spinning with drunkenness by the time Jongdae actually kissed him. The flick of his tongue over Zitao’s bottom lip, the way Jongdae breathed out so deeply when Zitao pressed his knee between his thighs, how he  _ tasted—  _ fuck, Zitao was so turned on. He whimpered when Jongdae pushed at his shirt. Even when Jongdae pulled away to tug his own shirt off from over his head, Zitao felt a weight on his chest, sensation keeping him pressed to the bed.

“You want me on my knees,” Jongdae said, his voice quiet as he sat back on Zitao’s hips. “First, my knees. You want me to let you fuck my mouth open with your cock.” Jongdae rolled his hips in a dirty grind against Zitao, who let out a soft moan, both at Jongdae’s filthy mouth and his careful ministrations. 

“And then you want me to take my time on you. I can do that.” Jongdae leaned forward, still grinding his hips in a circle with his hands balancing himself on Zitao’s shoulders. “I could take hours on you. Just toying with you. I could make you cry for me before I even touch you.”

“Whatever you want, I could give you,” Jongdae promised, rocking his hips particularly hard and moaning in tandem with Zitao. “As long as you give me what I want, too.”

Zitao nodded frantically, tugging desperately at Jongdae’s arms and pulling him forward for another messy kiss. Their teeth clicked, Jongdae’s against Zitao’s bottom lip, drawing blood. His bottom lip stung when Jongdae laved his tongue over the cut, but Zitao let him— Zitao fucking  _ let  _ him. Every single part of Jongdae was inexorable, nothing but lust and desperation and the need to get off and come and  _ Jongdae— _

“Zhongda, Zhongda, Zhongda,” Zitao panted, mouth falling open and allowing Jongdae access to stuff his tongue into Zitao’s mouth, brushing across the roof of his mouth and the palette of his tongue. The aggressive action made Zitao’s mind go static with white noise, nothing but obedience as Jongdae had his way with him.

“Like having a name to say now, Taozi?” Jongdae said between kisses, Zitao drooling before Jongdae kissed him and swallowed the answer down his throat. “Like knowing who owns you?”

There was no need to say who it was, because Jongdae knew, and Zitao knew, eyes fluttering shut as Jongdae pulled away to bite at his throat. The scrape of teeth against skin caused mewls to spill from Zitao’s lips, first excited and pleasant, and then pained, begging, still wanting more, until Jongdae drew blood and bit down on his neck to seal the bleeding scrapes with his teeth. 

“Want you, want—” Zitao stopped to shove his shirt off over his head, Jongdae biting down his neck and kissing the space between his collarbones. The stark contrast between tender and violent was so sudden and jarring, Zitao didn’t know whether to moan or cry out, beg for more or for it to stop. Every part of him wanted to drown in Jongdae, like he needed him as badly as air, but Jongdae was as bad for him as cigarette smoke and tar, heavy on the back of this tongue.

Jongdae’s tongue burned on his skin, around his nipple before scraping his teeth over Zitao’s hardening bud. Zitao all but cried out, squirming and begging for more. It was easy to oblige Zitao in whatever he wanted, his whines all the encouragement Jongdae needed to keep going. How many times had Jongdae listened to Zitao pleading in his dreams, writhing underneath him? How many times had Zitao begged Jongdae for a name to call him, just wanted to know who he  _ was,  _ why he loved Zitao so wholly, why he knew so much about him and Zitao knew  _ nothing? _

Before Zitao knew what was happening, Jongdae sunk to his knees. With his legs over the edge of the bed, Zitao looked down at Jongdae, the visual almost too much for him to handle. He moaned at the sight alone. He was so hard in his dark jeans, hyper aware of every single goosebump littering his flesh, rubbing against the tightness of his fishnets.

“Off,” Jongdae said, though the lilt of his voice at the end suggested it was more of a request than a demand. Still, Zitao easily hooked his fingers under the band of his jeans, sliding them off of his thighs. Jongdae made no moves to help Zitao, only watching. Studying. Every single inch of Zitao was exposed and open for Jongdae. An offering, almost.

Zitao didn’t have anything on underneath the fishnets, just his soft skin and— well, Jongdae expected it. The things Zitao liked didn’t surprise him anymore. No, it seemed as if his eyes almost... darkened after Zitao took his clothes off, relishing in every single part of Zitao’s beautifully toned skin, such a stark,  _ stark  _ contrast against his own, pale and cold, yet hot to the touch as soon as Jongdae thumbed at Zitao’s faint hipbones.

“I’ll ruin you.” A promise caught in the undertow of his voice, Jongdae looked up at Zitao. “Let me.”

Zitao waited. For a movement. His eyes darted between Jongdae, and his hands, where they sat on top of his thighs. It took a quiet  _ Zitao, please  _ for Zitao to realize Jongdae was asking— no, he was  _ begging  _ permission.

“Yes,” Zitao said all too enthusiastically. Jongdae’s fingers pulled at the band of the fishnets at his waist, pulling them over the curve of his hips. All Zitao could manage to let out were quiet puffs of breath, lifting his hips when Jongdae pulled his fishnets to his thighs.

Zitao thought he should at least have the decency to be embarrassed. After all, Jongdae hadn’t even really  _ done  _ anything to him, and yet, there he was, already hard, precum beading at the tip of his cock as Jongdae kissed along his thighs. With every kiss, he marked the territory as his and his only. The full body flush spreading from Zitao’s shoulders said he loved it all— and he did.

But there was no embarrassment, even as Jongdae mouthed at Zitao’s balls, poking his tongue out and tracing a wet trail with the tip of it. Zitao kept control, for the most part, until Jongdae took the head of his cock into his mouth, suckling messily around him while Zitao’s hands scrabbled for purchase on the sheets underneath.

“F-fuck, oh my god,” Zitao panted, Jongdae wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock and pumping once to gauge a response from him. Zitao pushed himself up on his elbows, hips flexing off the bed to fuck into Jongdae’s hand just a little more, just to get some friction on the crown of his cock and have some satisfaction, at least. “Please, Jongdae. Please, let me—”

“I want you to,” Jongdae said simply, and then took Zitao’s hard cock into his mouth, halfway down before making the most disgustingly lewd slurping sound Zitao had ever heard in his life, but  _ god,  _ was it all he fucking wanted. Jongdae had no shame, and little patience it seemed, as he took a moment to steady himself, and then swallowed Zitao down, to the base of his cock, flickering his teary-eyed gaze up to Zitao and even parting his lips what little more he could to lave his tongue over the underside of Zitao’s dick.

The weight of the room hit Zitao all at once, all lustful headiness and a haze. Faintly, Jongdae’s voice echoed in the back of Zitao’s mind, one of their early sessions, where Zitao was still too embarrassed to admit anything to Jongdae.

_ “The air gets thick when you’re here,”  _ Zitao had said, voice soft, barely audible over his own heartbeat. Jongdae, who Zitao didn’t have a name for at the time, simply hummed and kissed Zitao a little harder, his hand under the band of his boxers as he palmed him and listened to his quiet moans.

_ “It happens when an incubus feeds.”  _ Jongdae slid his free hand up the column of Zitao’s chest, stopping at his sternum before pressing down with the flat of his palm.  _ “It’s why you feel like there’s something pushing down on you... here.” _

_ “That sounds stupid,”  _ Zitao replied.

_ “Respect your ge.”  _ Jongdae pushed Zitao’s hair away from his face. Jongdae knocked the air out of Zitao without even trying.

The feeling was still there. The weight beared down on Zitao every time Jongdae moaned against his cock, intensified when Jongdae forced himself to take him all into his mouth, his nose brushing against the skin of Zitao’s abdomen.

“Jongdae!” Zitao moaned too loudly, his body buzzing from head to toe with pleasure. Jongdae captivated Zitao with his fluidity, his smoothness in movements, how easily he took Zitao in his mouth and asked him if he wanted to come through his touches alone. “God, I’m— I’m so close, Zhongda.” Zitao reverted to mandarin on instinct, almost tripping his tongue over itself. Jongdae followed easily, nodded his head and took all of Zitao in his mouth. Jongdae swallowed hard around Zitao’s cock, the friction warm and overwhelming all at once.

“Wait, wait, I don’t—” Zitao moved one of his hands from his side and into Jongdae’s hair. Jongdae pulled off with a slow slide, the action alone almost making Zitao come on the spot. “I don’t want to come yet.”

Jongdae’s lips were so obscenely red, almost puffy. Zitao sighed out an  _ oh fuck,  _ his heart stopping in his chest at the sight when he realized the shine on Jongdae’s bottom lip was his precum, a thick sheen threatening to drip off when Jongdae looked up at him.

“Are you sure?”

Zitao swallowed hard. “I want to come with you, Zhongda.”

Jongdae seemed to contemplate it for a moment, before tracing his fingernail along Zitao’s thigh.

“Can’t I make you come more than once, Taozi?” Jongdae traced his eyes down Zitao’s frame, before leaning in and kissing along his thighs again. Seemed he had an affinity for them.

“I’ve... I’ve never....”

“Never more than once?” Jongdae prompted. Zitao nodded. “But you want to try. I can feel it.” Before Zitao could even try denying it, Jongdae hushed him without even standing up, only pinching his fingers together. Fucking incubi. Fucking demons. Fucking  _ Jongdae. _ “Just yes or no.”

Despite his initial hesitation, Zitao found himself nodding without realizing it. Jongdae smiled, pressing another warm kiss to the inside of Zitao’s thigh.

And then Jongdae took Zitao’s cock in his mouth all at once, down the warmth of his throat.

“Oh my  _ god,”  _ Zitao choked out. The warmth and wetness of Jongdae’s mouth grounded Zitao. He had dreamt of this so many times, with Jongdae, without Jongdae. He wanted it all and then none at all.

Zitao’s breath shortened—  _ in-out-in-out-in—  _ tiny puffs filling the air as Jongdae swallowed around him again, and then pulled off halfway and let his jaw go slack. Jongdae couldn’t speak, but the action screamed  _ fuck my mouth. _

So Zitao mustered up what little energy he had left to rut his hips just slightly, just enough to feel his cock rub against the back of Jongdae’s throat. Jongdae’s breathing leveled, his mouth falling open and eyes half-lidded. God, Jongdae was begging for it. Zitao rolled his hips in a steady rhythm, his hips jumping up after one particularly hard thrust. The filthy sound from Jongdae’s mouth made Zitao’s stomach twist with anticipation, his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach.

Every move brought him closer to the edge of his orgasm, his hips jumping off the bed and cock grinding deliciously deep down Jongdae’s throat. Just as Zitao parted his lips to warn Jongdae, Jongdae dug his nails into Zitao’s thighs, scraping down and enjoying the hiss Zitao let out.

“O-oh, Zhongda, I’m—” Zitao gasped, his body tensing and legs locking over Jongdae’s shoulders to pull him in close. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

The warning was barely enough, Jongdae only pulling back a fraction before Zitao was coming in his mouth, fucking into his throat for the last few thrusts. Jongdae forced breaths through his nose, the bitterness of Zitao’s cum settling on his tongue before he swallowed around him. It was too much for Zitao, moaning softly and hips twitching before he settled back on the bed.

“Mandarin, huh?” Jongdae said as he pushed himself off of the floor. Zitao’s burning blush spread to his nose and the tips of his ears, covering his face with his hands. “Don’t. I like it.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Zitao mumbled.

“Do you even have anything to be embarrassed about anymore, lovely Taozi?” Jongdae pressed his face in the warm crook of Zitao’s neck. “I’ve seen everything you’ve ever wanted. I know everything you do and don’t like. I love it all. I want it all.”

“You’re a demon,” Zitao snapped, almost too quick to be casual.

“An incubus.” Jongdae enunciated each syllable.

“You only care about keeping yourself alive,” Zitao said. Jongdae laughed— Zitao could feel his breath against his throat, the flutter of his eyelashes. How close was he?

“Sweet Tao.” Jongdae grinned against his skin, scraping his teeth against his throat again. Jongdae loved marking Zitao up so much, it was almost absurd. “You think I don’t care about you?” Jongdae kissed along Zitao’s neck, up to his jawline and lingering at the corners of his lips. “You know what an incubus does, don’t you?”

“You fuck people,” Zitao said crudely. “And you kill people.”

“Simply put, yes. We usually choose victims,” Jongdae paused, pulling away and pushing Zitao’s black hair away from his face. “We wear them down, and eventually, we’ll kill them after getting what we want from them.”

“So?” Zitao grimaced, pushing Jongdae’s hand away from his face. “So, what— you’ll kill me now that you’ve found me? Is that what you’re leading up to? Just say if it is.”

“That’s where it gets... different.” Jongdae hummed softly. “I should’ve killed you months ago. I could’ve  _ found  _ you months ago.”

Zitao understood most of what Jongdae was saying, wasn’t missing the big picture, which was,  _ I’m still alive and it’s because of Jongdae,  _ but still, he waited for Jongdae to elaborate, if only to see that frustrated expression on Jongdae’s face as he tried so, so hard to express it.

“You interest me, Zitao.” Jongdae kissed Zitao hard, his teeth almost nicking at the skin of his sensitive bottom lip again. “I want you to want me— to find you, to  _ fuck  _ you... to have you all for myself like this— on your own accord.” Jongdae pulled away from Zitao. Despite the pure black of his eyes, Zitao could see... something in them. Something like anticipation in his eyes. “I want you to be addicted to me just as much as I am to you, but not because I’m an incubus.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.” Zitao avoided Jongdae’s confession, which he was sure would piss him off. “Are you going to kill me? After making me want you, are you gonna use me like you do everyone else?”

“Are you not  _ listening  _ to me?” Jongdae snarled, his hand back on Zitao’s throat, pinning him to the bed. “I have given up chances to kill you time and time again. I have never been closer to a human being than I have been while trying to get you to want me. Even now, Taozi,” Jongdae traced his fingernail along Zitao’s chin, poking at the delicate skin, “I could kill you. I have control over every single part of your life under my thumb, and you are still asking?”

“So, you won’t kill me now because you care about me,” Zitao supplied. Jongdae immediately clamped his mouth shut. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want me to be obsessed with you. You want me to worship you.” Zitao squinted at Jongdae. “You want me to love you.”

“I want you to  _ need _ me,” Jongdae growled again. “I want you to need me like you need air to breathe. Every single part of me wants to know every single part of you. Fuck, Zitao, I indulge you in your every fantasy, in everything you’ve ever wanted without judgment. It’s all for you. I’ve given up myself for you.”

“But you want me to love you,” Zitao repeated, “because I haven’t given you that part yet. You’re hungry for it.” 

“I—” Jongdae paused. “I want to devour you.”

“Fuck,” Zitao breathed out, overwhelmed by Jongdae’s blindingly honest words, pulling Jongdae into a kiss and wrapping his legs around his waist. “I need you, Zhongda.”

A flare of heaviness surrounded Zitao, Jongdae shuddering heavily as Zitao started to grind his hips against him.

“You can have every part of me,” promised Zitao. Jongdae’s grip on Zitao’s waist tightened, gasping into Zitao’s mouth before they kissed, more tongue than technique. “Fuck me, please. Fuck me, take what you want.”

“Shit— okay, okay, I—“ another flare of energy, and Zitao only then could see the full body shivers rocking through Jongdae, eyes fluttered shut.

Jongdae was holding  _ back,  _ Zitao thought quickly, his heart stuttering in his chest. Jongdae was holding back, trying not to lose control in front of Zitao, trying so hard, because Jongdae was a fucking  _ incubus,  _ he needed this more than Zitao ever did. And Zitao had that  _ control  _ over him.

“Hey,” Zitao said, voice unbelievably soft. Jongdae’s breathing was frantic and heavy, but he opened his eyes and looked at Zitao. His pupils were dilated, the faintest ring of yellow barely visible around the edge. “I said take what you want.” When Jongdae immediately began to protest, Zitao hushed him with a finger to his lips. “Take what you  _ need.” _

“Zitao,” Jongdae all but whined, but held tighter to Zitao’s hips. “Turn over.”

Zitao did as he was told, turning over on the bed while Jongdae tugged the fishnets off the rest of the way. Zitao, now fully naked, whined softly when he felt Jongdae’s fingers trailing down his legs, all the way down to the tips of his toes. Jongdae sighed once he had Zitao splayed out for him, his body overheating, yet still with goosebumps littering his skin.

There was a pause, a moment where Jongdae contemplated his following action.

“Here,” Jongdae said, propping Zitao’s hips up with a half folded pillow. The consideration was so oddly tender, Zitao felt his eyes suddenly well up, choking back a noise in his throat. It seemed like Jongdae was only away from the bed for a split second, the sound of footsteps echoing through the small motel room.

The pop of the lube cap made Zitao flinch, his hips jumping just a fraction.

“Can’t be like your dreams,” Jongdae explained quietly. “Can’t just fuck you without prepping you.”

Because most of Zitao’s dreams went like that, being wet and open and ready for Jongdae at any given moment, whenever Jongdae needed him— now that Zitao had to hear Jongdae  _ say  _ it, he felt a touch of shame gnawing at him, but just barely. Not enough to stop him from hiccuping with pleasure when Jongdae touched him, spread his ass. From the small of his back, Jongdae trailed kisses down Zitao’s tailbone, along the softness of his ass before leaving one last kiss at Zitao’s rim.

Then he laved his tongue over Zitao’s asshole, relishing in the absolute filth, the way Zitao moaned so helplessly and buried his face in another pillow in front of him. Hands scrabbling for purchase, Zitao bucked forward when Jongdae licked another stripe on Zitao’s sensitive skin, as far as his perineum, sucking at the skin of his balls and pulling away only when Zitao began to whine.

Zitao didn’t even realize Jongdae had poured lube onto his fingers until he felt Jongdae pressing one against his ass. Jongdae didn’t even have to prompt Zitao to relax, only drew back with a quiet sigh before pressing in again with two fingers. The burn was excessive, but Jongdae knew Zitao could take it in stride.

Before Zitao realized it, he was stretched out around two fingers, on his way to three, Jongdae’s tongue flicking alongside his fingers and earning quiet, overstimulated moans from Zitao, tiny jumps of his hips against the pillow underneath Zitao making him all the more overwhelmed. 

“O-oh, fuck,” Zitao stuttered when Jongdae brushed against his prostate. “Ge, you have to fuck me.”

“You’re warm.” Jongdae’s voice was nothing more than a quiet rumble. Zitao couldn’t even bear the thought of looking over his shoulder, meeting Jongdae’s dark eyed gaze and feeling like he was swallowing him whole. “Okay.”

Zitao steadied himself against the bed, his hands clutching at the sheets. Jongdae’s skin was fire-warm every time he touched him, leaving scorched trails in his wake.

Jongdae lined up the head of his cock with Zitao’s hole, pushing in a moment later and earning a long, drawn out moan in response, Zitao immediately dropping his face into the pillow in front of him and crying out. It was too much, even with prep, even with knowing the feeling, and  _ especially  _ after coming once. Jongdae, too hedonistic to care, hardly gave Zitao an adjustment period, and instead, fucked into Zitao roughly, his fingers digging into his hips and marking him from the outside.

The air was suffocating, thick on Zitao’s tongue as he gasped and arched into Jongdae’s thrusts.

“Always take my cock so well,” Jongdae sighed in time with his thrusts, Zitao crying out louder when Jongdae found his prostate, grinding against his ass dirty and slow to tear another groan from him. The pace was so much  _ slower  _ than Zitao had anticipated, his body trembling with pure, unadulterated  _ need.  _ Zitao rolled his hips back and tried to get more from Jongdae, who gladly obliged Zitao in anything he wanted.

Now knowing what Zitao needed, Jongdae pinned Zitao’s hips to the pillow, fucking into him hard, almost a touch too rough— how Zitao liked it. The stretch of his hole and the angle Jongdae fucked him at burned in the backs of his thighs, the curve of his hips and waist, the way his body cried out every time Jongdae fucked him hard enough to make his jaw go slack and tongue loll out past his lips. It ached and stung in the backs of his muscles, made him remember all the other times he had only dreamt of this, imagined the real feeling of having Jongdae there to kiss him, hold him, wake up in the morning and see him beside him. 

“Fuck, fuck,  _ Zhongda.” _

“Beg for your ge.” Jongdae grabbed a fistful of Zitao’s hair, jerking his head back and bringing tears to Zitao’s eyes. Zitao stuttered quietly, breaking into a full blown whine when Jongdae slowed his thrusts to slow grinds against his ass. The crown of his cock brushed against his prostate on every calculated drag out, Zitao’s hips jumping desperately. 

“P-please,” Zitao said, out of breath.

“Sounds like you don’t fucking  _ want it,”  _ Jongdae growled. “I can leave you here. You already came  _ once.” _

The way Jongdae said it was accusatory, like Zitao had done it without permission, come without asking, but— but Jongdae gave him permission, Jongdae let him, Zitao had  _ asked,  _ he couldn’t really be upset—

“Sorry, I’m sorry, ge, I can be better, I can—” Jongdae canted his hips forward, shoving Zitao’s face into the pillow. Zitao turned his face to the side, realizing only then that he was drooling, down his chin with red cheeks and bitten lips panting for breath. “Fuck me, use me, I want you, I need you to make me come.” Zitao even went as far as tightening around Jongdae, making him groan heavily, thrusting in hard and fucking another desperate noise out of Zitao.

And even though Jongdae was more bite than he was bark, his threats not empty at all, Zitao could feel the telltale signs he was going to come, from the twitch of his cock inside of Zitao every time Zitao moaned, to the death grip he kept on Zitao’s hips, digging his nails into his skin and wanting, hoping he drew blood from him.

“Zhongda, Zhongda, I’m gonna come again.” Zitao bit on his bottom lip, grinding his hips back for another touch of friction against his prostate when Jongdae fucked into him mercilessly. “Come inside me, ge, please, please, I want it.”

“You’re filthy,” Jongdae snarled, regripping his fingers in Zitao’s hair and pulling harder. Zitao wailed now, not knowing whether to keep his face buried in the pillow so Jongdae wouldn’t see the disgusting mess he was, or turning to meet his gaze, if only for a second, if only so Jongdae  _ would  _ see what a mess he was turning Zitao into. “You want me to come inside of you? Mark you up with my cum, Zitao?”

“Please, please, please, want it, want—”

“Because you’re mine.” Jongdae fucked into Zitao particularly hard on that thrust, making Zitao wail, the first trail of tears trickling down his cheek. “You’ll give me everything. You’ll let me have every part of you.”

Zitao nodded, barely able to move, barely able to breathe, because Jongdae surrounded him so overwhelmingly.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jongdae gave Zitao the option to answer, but knew the answer already. Still, he smiled in sick satisfaction when Zitao nodded frantically again. “You trust me not to kill you. Trust me to fuck you ‘till you can’t take it anymore, but not to kill you.”

_ “Yesyesyesyes—”  _ Zitao choked on his words as Jongdae fucked his sore ass again. Zitao tightened around Jongdae again, his thighs trembling and aching as he breathed out hard and heavy.

“Ah, fuck, Tao!” Jongdae groaned, the sound making Zitao’s dick twitch with overstimulation. Jongdae grinded into Zitao hard, not bothering to give Zitao a warning, only thrusting into Zitao a handful of times more before coming, his cum thick and warm and filling Zitao up as Jongdae pulled out, leaving only the head of his cock inside of Zitao and savoring the warmth and tightness of his ass. Jongdae let his grip on Zitao’s dark hair drop, scraping his nails down his back and sighing with every flex of his hips.

After a moment of silence, Zitao hiding his face in the pillow in front of him, and Jongdae pressing kisses down the line of Zitao’s spine, Jongdae slid his hand along Zitao’s stomach, the warmth unexpected. Zitao shivered from the tender movement. He hesitated, before lifting his own hand from his side and covering Jongdae’s hand with his own. He squeezed, and Jongdae smiled against his back.

“Thank you,” Jongdae mumbled against his back. “Thank you, sweet Taozi, for letting me have you.”

Zitao parted his lips to laugh quietly, tell Jongdae that he never had to thank him for something Zitao wanted to be a part off— until he felt Jongdae push his cock back inside of him again, rubbing right against his prostate.

“Zhongda!” Zitao tightened unexpectedly around Jongdae, who groaned in oversensitivity. “Fuck,  _ fuck,  _ you—” Zitao’s hand flailed for a hold on the bed after Jongdae fucked him.

“Let me do this for you,” Jongdae offered, thrusting into Zitao again, moving his hand from Zitao’s stomach to the head of his dick, rubbing circles around the head and making Zitao’s hips jump forward, fucking shallowly into his fist. “Let me do this for you because I love you, Zitao.”

Zitao was hyperaware of everything now, from the feel of Jongdae’s hips against his ass, to the wet heat of his hole, leaking out Jongdae’s cum, and lube, and Jongdae fucking it back into him, despite the fact that he was sensitive already. And it all piled and surmounted into a crest of pleasure in the pit of Zitao’s stomach, tightening and coiling until Jongdae fucked him just at the same time he jerked Zitao’s cock again.

And Zitao was coming, without warning, not able to form a coherent thought as his eyes crossed, cheek smushed against the pillow underneath him. His hips fucked desperately forward into Jongdae’s hand, his cum coming out white hot and thick, against Jongdae’s fist, while trying to earn what little friction he could against his prostate.

Zitao didn’t realize he was groaning until Jongdae pulled his cock out of him, a loud moan spilling past his lips before Jongdae turned him over on the bed.

“Look at the mess you made,” Jongdae said, voice low. Zitao was still shaking from his orgasm, barely able to flutter his eyes open to look at Jongdae. But when he did— god, when he did— he found Jongdae licking Zitao’s cum off of his fingers, cleaning up every thick drop.

“Ge,” Zitao called out, pulling Jongdae down and kissing him, sliding his tongue over Jongdae’s, and fuck, Jongdae tasted like Zitao. 

“Mm, Taozi,” Jongdae hummed against Zitao’s lips, smiling when Zitao whined and nipped at his lips. “Always so needy, hm?”

Zitao nodded, shameless after being fucked so well, still swimming in the afterglow. Jongdae’s smile was pleasantly soft, fingers skimming up and down Zitao’s sides.

“You should shower.” Jongdae laid down at Zitao’s side, still admiring the marks he left on Zitao’s golden soft skin. If Zitao was shameless in his pliance, Jongdae was shameless in his handiwork, making sure to marvel over every single scraped inch of skin, claimed Zitao for himself and nobody else to have. “You’re already leaking my cum.” For effect (and because Jongdae truly was a sadistic bastard), Jongdae ran his fingers through the cum leaking out of Zitao’s hole, stuffing his fingers inside of him and earning a mewl of overstimulation. Jongdae easily slid them back out afterwards.

“I— fuck— I don’t have the energy,” Zitao huffed tiredly. The threat of sleep already crept up on him, his eyelids heavy and falling shut every now and again. Before Jongdae could argue, Zitao continued, “you’ll leave if I go.”

“It’s  _ my  _ motel room,” Jongdae said. “Why would I leave?”

“You always leave.”

Jongdae’s expression faltered for just a moment, steeling himself and grabbing Zitao’s face.

“Zitao,” he said, trying to catch Zitao’s attention, but he was already well on his way to falling asleep, drained from Jongdae feeding on his energy, drawing it out of him all night and then drinking it all down in excess, drunk on Zitao, and Zitao alone. 

Jongdae cursed under his breath, tugging the cum soaked sheets out from underneath Zitao and tossing them in a bunched up ball on the floor. Thankfully, Jongdae had the sense to request an extra comforter before leaving earlier that day, snatching it up from the side table and unfolding it while Zitao grumbled about the loss of warmth from his side.

When Jongdae slipped under the covers beside Zitao, Zitao tugged Jongdae close by his waist. Jongdae let himself be tucked into Zitao’s side, not minding feeling small for once, and listening to Zitao’s soft heartbeat until he fell asleep with him.

  
  
  


Zitao was never one to rise quick, always lazy yawns and outstretched limbs and loud groans until he had to roll out of bed and into whatever clothes he had nearby.

The following morning was no exception, Zitao tiredly stretching his arms over his head and barely opening one of his eyes and peering up at the textured ceiling. It didn’t take Zitao long to remember where he was, every muscle from his thighs to the middle of his back aching and sore, the way they always did after he was fucked hard. Not to mention Zitao was still exhausted, energy sapped. Jongdae had that effect on him for the first couple days after their meetings, always did, because he was ravenous and Zitao let him have all he wanted.

Just as Zitao readied himself to slip out of the bed and grab his discarded clothes from the floor, sure he’d be getting dressed in silence and Jongdae gone, he felt an arm snake around his waist, tugging him back and keeping him in bed.

“Don’t,” Jongdae grumbled. Zitao’s eyes widened, flickering between Jongdae’s hand at his waist and then his face, pillow prints on his cheeks and dried drool at the corner of his mouth.

Zitao stared for a touch longer than he should have, apparently, Jongdae peering an eye open at him and catching him, cheeks going red in embarrassment. Jongdae sighed.

“Taozi,” he said. Zitao made a small noise of acknowledgment, ignoring the way his heart twisted so suddenly in his chest at the sound of Jongdae’s sleep ridden voice saying his name. “I forgot to mention it yesterday, but you look gorgeous with black hair.”

Zitao smiled, absurdly happy for someone just waking up in the morning. “I know I do.”

“It was truly your black hair that did me in,” Jongdae continued, still half asleep.

“Wasn’t the fishnets?” Zitao challenged. Jongdae hummed, hands pawing at Zitao’s body until he found Zitao’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing affectionately.

“It was all of you.”

The sudden flush of adoration in Zitao’s chest threatened to drown him, so Zitao grabbed Jongdae and kissed him, pouring his appreciation and love through each kiss. Jongdae flailed for a moment, his eyes only wide before he settled and held tightly to Zitao.

Zitao wondered, as he cuddled into Jongdae’s side, if Jongdae truly didn’t know that Zitao already loved him before Jongdae’s grand confession. He wondered if Jongdae noticed that Zitao was drunk on attention and lust and desire every time Jongdae spent time with him. He wondered if maybe Jongdae always knew— how they’d end up together, side by side, in this cheap motel room, half asleep and whispering sweet nothings to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween!


End file.
